So, that was one hell of a night.
David didn't talk to me at all, which is okay I guess, since we broke up.. and since the whole entire situation was my fault.
I flop down on the corner of my bed, my black curls bouncing along my head.
I stare down at the fluffy white rug beneath my bare feet, hoping that yesterday night was a dream. And no, not a dream where you would normally feel happiness. A dream where you feel nothing but emptiness, a dream where the only color you see is black, a dream where the only feeling you have is in the pit of your stomach, twisted sickness. So basically a nightmare, since yesterday felt like I was living my worst nightmare ever.
I just want to forget him, forget his entire existence. Forget what his laughter sounded like whenever I did something funny, forget how his smile went from one ear to the other, forget his long dark brown hair, forget his gorgeous brown eyes, forget what his voice sounded like, forget how he cradled me in his arms whenever I was upset, and most importantly, forget how he made me happy. I want to forget all the details of our relationship, and it breaks my heart to even think that.
I get up from my bed and walk into the hallway, to only find the painting David got me for my birthday a few months back. I forgot I had it. The painting is hanged up against the hallway wall. I stare at it lifelessly, feeling nothing but sorrow. I close my eyes and sigh as I walk back into my bedroom and into my closet.
I grab the brown paper I still have from moving into this place. I go and remove the painting from the wall, wrapped it up, and sat it down on the floor.
"I'm sorry Pookie." I say and walk back into my bedroom, closing the door behind me with a frown spread across my face.
I flop back down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling yet again to find myself in the same position I was in yesterday evening.
"I guess this is my life now."
